


Splatter

by DoorKeeper9



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, Dirty Talk, Dominant Kylo Ren, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Frottage, Grandpa's little girl, Groping, Hate Sex, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Non-Consensual Groping, Rey Palpatine, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex, hurt/comfort if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29234679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoorKeeper9/pseuds/DoorKeeper9
Summary: “You’re Palpatine’s girl,” he says coldly.“His chief of staff, yes.” Rey’s eyes narrow. “And you have your hand on my ass, *Kylo Ren*. Kindly take it off.”AKA powerful corporate rivals Kylo and Rey put the hate in love/hate.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 14
Kudos: 89
Collections: To Find Your Kiss: The Reylo Fanfiction Anthology's Valentine's Day Exchange





	Splatter

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks- this is probably the least likeable Ben and Rey I’ve ever written, but hey, it’s a gift! The dislikes included fluff and enemies-to-lovers, so brace yourselves for some straight up hate sex. Mind the tags, and forgive me for knowing 0.00% about how mergers or paintball work.
> 
> [HERE](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EuxjfcjXUAYKB_3?format=jpg&name=4096x4096) is a moodboard! 
> 
> CW: workplace sexual harassment, extremely dub con, Kylo calling Rey a whore/bitch, brief mention of a bloody cut (not because of Kylo!)
> 
> NOTE: I didn’t even get to the proper prompt yet, so there will be a second chapter!

Rey Palpatine’s heels click on the cold tile floor of her private office.

“No,” she says crisply. _Always_ crisp; her voice is her only ambassador over the phone.

“They’ve had _months_ to submit all the paperwork, Pryde,” she continues, smoothing her already sleek hair. A sharp V forms between her eyebrows. “Their incompetence _won’t_ stop this merger from happening, not on my watch.”

Pryde dithers on for a moment, offering excuses- something about the contracts being delayed- while Rey’s eyes dart across the office to her wide, glossy windows. She’s seen New York City a million times, but the pristine glass walls represent her new power.

Rey _Plutt_ would never have had such sleek, spotless windows. Rey _Palpatine_ , for some words and her soul, got these windows and a slice of the family fortune.

“Enough,” she snaps suddenly, cutting Pryde off. “I’ll contact them myself. Proceed as though those papers were signed.”

Not bothering to wait for his reply, Rey ends the call and tosses her phone on her desk. She exhales lightly through her nose, that sigh and the pinch of her lips the only visible sign that she’s truly displeased by this situation.

_You open like a book_ , her grandfather once sneered. He’d crouched in his winged chair as if it were a throne, gauging her critically. _Always_ critically. _You’ll need a better mask if you want to be part of the family business._

Rey straightens her spine, willing her facial expression to smooth. She steps closer to the windows and regards herself skeptically in the reflection: she’s tall (even taller in heels), slim (but not fragile), elegant (but not even close to gracious). Her grandfather had liked her spunk when he’d found her. He’d told her she was wasting her time with non-profits, that she might be destined for bigger, better things. Rey had believed him and followed him here to First Order; now she _has_ those bigger, better things. She has a penthouse apartment she sleeps and fucks in, a credit card that feels engraved out of marble, and a wellspring of subtle but prevailing power as her grandfather’s chief of staff. 

It’s _almost_ enough. But it’s never enough.

Feeling refocused, Rey turns her attention back towards the problem at hand. The contracts are delayed, which jeopardizes the merger. The merger might fall through, which jeopardizes her power.

Rey’s hazel eyes narrow as she thinks it through.

The contracts _should_ have been sent by the legal department. This oversight either means they did it on purpose, to fuck her, or by accident, fucking themselves. Given the head of the legal department, it’s likely the former.

Rey turns her back on the windows. She smooths her smooth hair once again, pulls up her best mask, and readies herself for the long walk to legal. She’s about to confront that shark-souled, smirking son-of-a-bitch, Kylo Ren.

\---

It all starts with a hand on her ass.

It’s two years ago, and Rey is making the rounds at her own welcome party. Her plush mouth is frozen into a slight smile: the polite, well-bred one she’s been using all night as she glides through the crowd in her silver-white dress. It’s a smile with some warmth to placate these old men, but just enough ice glimmers through to promise that _yes_ , she’s their new chief of staff for a reason. Not because she’s her grandfather’s heir- though that certainly helps- but a powerful figure in her own right, somebody to be _feared_.

Rey eventually allows herself a few minutes’ respite from networking, leaning against the wall in a more discreet nook of the venue. She nurses her champagne while surveying the party with keen, hungry eyes. In a decade she might run this company, assuming her grandfather bothers to die; he might not. In the meantime, she’s already plotting a long, winding path towards ascension, using these dolts for the purpose.

A stranger saunters up to her side, and Rey refreshes her smile. She opens her mouth to introduce herself...and then freezes, as his hand lands firmly on her ass.

“I could fuck this,” he says casually, with a squeeze.

Rey’s world narrows to just a few things, in that moment. Her hand, clenched around the stem of her glass. His hand, too warm through the silk of her dress. His expression, so flat and derisive, sizing her up.

“It might be a tight fit, but that doesn’t matter.”

His haughty lips turn up conspiratorially; Rey’s blood pressure spikes. Her nostrils flare and her lips remain parted, but otherwise she doesn’t visibly react. Not yet, anyway. Rey takes a moment instead to size up the dark haired offender. 

He’s both tall and broad, chiseled into a blue suit that strains at his shoulders. His face is uncommonly long and should appear soft, but does not. The waves of his hair are severely swept back, and the smoothness of his cheeks is so intensely precise, it recalls the razor. He’s handsome and he knows it. Clever, too, because he’s standing in a way where a casual observer couldn’t tell what he’s doing right now. His hand is still gripping her ass, settling in for the night.

“I could hold your whole cunt in one hand,” he remarks, as though it’s nothing special.

Rey stiffens further and feels her cheeks flush. She should call him out, _loudly_ , but she won’t, for the same reason she won’t drop the smile that still clings to her lips.

Wielding it now like a weapon, Rey asks him politely, “And what’s your name?”

“Does it matter?” The man looks down, as if he’s bored, to where his hand sits. It _is_ large enough that he cups one whole buttock in its palm; he probably _could_ hold her cunt. 

“It might matter if I have you fired,” she says.

“It’s Hux, then,” says the man, looking back up at her. He has dark eyes under winged, heavy eyebrows: another piece of softness made stern. 

“Nice try,” Rey says dryly, gripping her champagne flute tightly enough that she fears it might break. “Armitage has red hair and a face like a weasel, I’ve met him already.”

The man smirks appreciatively; at her joke or her body, it’s not quite clear. His hand pulses on her ass once again, testing the flesh like he might a mattress. Perhaps he pictures it bouncing on one. 

“I’m Kylo,” he says carelessly, shifting closer.

“Kylo.” Rey repeats the word, tasting it. She lets derision drip into her voice: “Your parents couldn’t just name you Kyle?” She leans in. “Or did _you_ pick it out, to make yourself sound special?”

The man’s dark eyes flicker, and for the first time his grip loosens.

“You’re Palpatine’s girl,” he says coldly.

“His chief of staff, yes.” Rey’s eyes narrow. “And you have your hand on my ass, _Kylo Ren_. Kindly take it off.”

“Done your homework,” he sneers. The veneer of charm he first wore is gone now, and his eyes shine with cold calculation. “I don’t think that I need to move my hand. I don’t think that you’ll do a damn thing.”

Rey stares at him, both pissed and perversely enthralled. “Why wouldn’t I?” she breathes out. She’s intensely aware of their position. If she wanted to, she could step back, call him out. Instead, she shifts her hips subtly to hide where his arm ends.

“Easy,” Kylo says, shifting as well to play along with her game. From head on, the two are merely conversing. Behind Rey, on her ass, his long fingers delve, pressing the outline of the crack between her cheeks. Rey lets out a small, strangled sound and he smiles.

“You’re new,” he says smoothly. “Everyone here is ruthless. You’re a woman.” His voice dips on the phrase, this time definitely appreciative. He moves even closer, bending his lips towards her ear; his hair falls.

“You’re Palpatine’s granddaughter,” he says, low pitched, “but you want their respect. You want to prove that you’re worth it, worthy to be here.” His fingertips worm their way under her ass to cup it; she wriggles as his fingertips latch, start to inch up her skirt; the silk rumples into his palm. He leans closer. 

“If you say something now,” he murmurs, “they’ll never take you seriously. They’ll look at you and just see an ass to be groped. A mouth to be filled.” The tip of his finger- so long, _too_ long- barely brushes the back of her now-naked thigh. “Just some skin to cum onto, aren’t you, _Rey_?”

“That’s enough.”

Rey’s voice comes out roughly with anger, and perhaps something else. She steps back from Kylo, allowing the skirt of her dress to drop down. Kylo stays where he is; he’s smart enough to avoid causing a scene.

“I hope _you’ve_ done your homework,” she bites out. “I’m going to inherit First Order, and once I do, I’ll be coming for you.”

Kylo smirks. He brings his hand up to his mouth and runs his pointer finger, the one that had touched skin, across his full lips. “We’ll see about that,” he says smoothly.

Rey flashes a gracious, ice-cold smile. Kylo smooths his hair back from his face with a debonair grin. The two of them stare pure hate at one another, rivals freshly born. 

\---

Two years later, Rey can say that she hates Kylo _more._

The two of them wage a cold war with each other. Kylo happens to mention Rey’s “weasel-faced” comment to Hux, losing her an ally. Rey conveniently forgets to invite Kylo to a series of key leadership meetings. Kylo strategically undermines Rey during her own presentation to clients. The offenses, big and small, pile up over time into one massive grudge that throbs like a thumbed bruise. It’s not subtle, either; both Palpatine and Snoke- Kylo’s mentor- are clearly aware of the struggle between their proteges, but if anything it delights the older men.

_Keeps you sharp_ , says her grandfather with a cruel grin.

Rey _does_ feel sharpened. She feels almost untouchable. _Almost._

Kylo hasn’t laid a hand on her since the night of the party. He’s loomed close, looked her over. Made soft spoken comments. Lingered after meetings, forcing Rey to walk quickly to escape the room. The _threat_ of his touch is what he seems to get off on; he’ll watch her with cold pleasure as though seeking her panic. 

Rey rarely panics. Sometimes, she is thrilled. She’ll throw him a look of defiance that says: _why don’t you chase me?_

It’s not that Kylo’s keeping chaste. To the contrary: one late night, Rey had been dropping a contract off to the legal team. Rey had hoped to avoid Kylo’s notice, but she needn’t have worried; a pretty female admin was fully distracting him. Kylo was talking with her, his voice low, looming over her like some Armani-clad pillar. Possessive. Slicked back. A tiger straining his cage.

Rey fought to keep her gaze straight ahead, but it kept flicking back to the scene. There was a turning point suddenly: Kylo’s eyes sharpened; he shifted. His large- _too large_ \- hands snatched the admin by the waist. The woman audibly giggled as he stepped back into his office and dragged her with him. Rey’s steps had faltered as the door slammed behind them. Her steps had slowed further as the blinds lowered down. And then...she came to a full stop. It was quiet that night, but she thinks she would have still heard the low, feminine moan even if it wasn’t. She definitely would have heard the hard slam of two palms hitting the window. Then a voice like a growl: _bend for me._

Rey had startled, kept walking. Ignored the burning heat between her legs. 

Later that night, she’d selected a perfectly suitable match from a dating app. He was tall. Broad shouldered. Dark hair, somewhat long.

“Fuck me against the window,” she’d asked him.

He’d laughed nervously. “Won’t people see-”

“I don’t give a shit,” Rey snapped. She planted one hand against the expensive glass. With the other, she grabbed the man’s hand and wrapped it around her neck.

_Bend for me._

He was perfectly suitable. Unlike Kylo Ren.

\---

Now, Rey marches the same route towards Kylo’s office. She can hear him shouting even from a distance; some underling must have incited his wrath. The rest of the department keeps their heads obediently bent to their work, ignoring what must be common happenstance. Kylo is known for his terrible temper, and it’s one strike against him ever rising further up in the ranks.

Rey pauses outside of the office. A pretty admin- _they’re all pretty, for Kylo-_ smiles over at her from her desk, clearly gathering herself to ask…

“I’m not on his calendar,” Rey says coolly. She barely glances at the admin, even as she can tell her next question will be… “I don’t need an appointment.”

A moment of silence later, a small man- Mitaka, maybe?- scuttles out of Kylo’s office. Rey steps forward confidently before the admin can rise and give warning. She relishes the idea of Kylo caught off guard. 

Inside, the decor is predictably sleek and modern. Kylo’s windows, she notes with vindication, look out on a view lesser than her own. He has a few panels more than she does, though, which scales her smirk back to an upturn of her lips.

“Kylo Ren,” she says smoothly.

“Rey Palpatine,” he spits back, unamused. His black hair is mussed, thrown out of its shape by the violence of his gestures, no doubt. His pale cheeks are flushed with anger and he strangles his own tie straightening it. Every quick edge to his movement speaks to the temper that still has yet to cool. Rey isn’t afraid, though; he makes more mistakes when he’s angry, she’s found.

“What the fuck do you want?” he snarls now.

“Not happy to see me?” she asks rhetorically. She stops in front of his desk and eyes its surface. “I see you had a little tiff.”

Dark blue glass scatters over his well-polished desk. It might be the remnants of one of his awards, shattered out of pique, or to intimidate poor, hapless Mitaka.

“Your employee feedback must make for an interesting read,” she adds.

“What do you _want,_ Rey?” Kylo asks again. His voice still thrums with anger, but his expression is already settling. He’s gotten better at recovering from flares ever since Rey started using it against him. Now his eyes sharpen with interest and, worse, the glint of control.

“I’m here about the merger,” Rey says, raising her chin. Really, she’s here to fish for information. “We’re set to sign on Monday,” she says, dangling the bait. “Is everything in order on your end?”

“Yes, of course,” he says sourly, straightening his suit jacket. Preoccupied, he misses Rey’s eyes flashing with triumph.

_He doesn’t know that the contracts are late_ , she thinks to herself gleefully.

“What about you?” he asks slyly. He rounds his desk and sits down in his chair, suddenly back on offensive. “I hear that you won’t even be there for the signing.”

Rey’s glee winks out, nearly trumped by the wave of annoyance rising at his reminder. Her grandfather had rejected her request to attend the public handoff, while Snoke had allowed Kylo. Rey can already imagine the press clipping: Kylo sandwiched the between two powerful men as though he is a third, their successor. She wishes spitefully that he were more ugly, had some terrible scar down his face that might have made Snoke think twice before including him.

“I’ll be managing the transition,” she says crisply, though some irritation bleeds through. “Unlike you, my work will continue.”

“Sounds like nannying,” he remarks pointedly. “All the responsibility, none of the recognition.”

Rey’s temper flares. “I’m good at the work,” she bites out. “That’s why I’m in charge.” 

“It keeps you occupied,” he says dismissively, a small smile on his lips. “That’s why granddaddy gives it to you, like a toy.”

Rey slams her hands down on his desk, her mouth open to snap back a retort. Instead she hisses, recoiling immediately. She flips her hands over and is startled to see a blue shard of glass embedded in her left palm.

“Temper, temper,” Kylo chides, his eyes alight at the irony. His smile broadens in spite of- or maybe because of- Rey’s expression of pain. His gaze drops down to look at her palm; it wells red along the glass edges. 

“This is your fault,” Rey says roughly, her voice somewhat unsteady. She hates the sight of blood, though she’d never admit it.

Kylo _tsks_ her from his desk, then rises from it. Rey dimly hears the sound of a drawer opening, but she’s more focused on plucking out the glass shard. It comes out cleanly enough, but her blood wells out faster than before. She clamps her hand shut, looking back towards the door.

Kylo walks to her side.

“Give it here,” he says sternly, outstretching his hand.

“There are first aid kits…” Rey says weakly, stepping back.

“...and I have one. Right _here_ ,” he says, setting one down on the desk. He doesn’t even look at Rey as he takes her wrist authoritatively. Physically, Rey immediately goes limp; internally she bristles.

“We have a perfectly good nurse on the premises,” she mumbles as Kylo pulls out the gauze from the kit with his free hand. He keeps moving as though she hadn’t spoken, wrapping a length of it around her cut hand. So close to her own, Rey sees how much larger his fingers are; her mind flashes back to the way he’d cupped her ass in his palm.

“ _Kylo_ ,” she says sternly, gathering herself. “Let go of me.”

“With a cut,” he says smoothly, knotting the gauze’s end, “you’ll need to put pressure on it.”

He wraps her hand into his own and squeezes it, hard. Rey yelps lightly, attempting to drag her arm back to her chest, but she can’t; he won’t let her.

“You should also keep this elevated,” he adds, a dark gleam in his eyes. He catches her other wrist, hauls both of Rey’s arms up over her head. “Helps with clotting.”

“Kylo…”

The lawyer starts walking forward, and Rey, helplessly, steps back as quickly as she can to avoid him. In seconds, Rey’s back hits the wall. She inhales.

“Kylo,” she repeats, more weakly this time. 

Kylo looms over her, her wrists trapped in one hand. He presses his body against hers, ignoring the way that she struggles against him.

“I’ve been very patient,” he says in a low voice. He bends his lips down towards her ear; his grip feels like steel on her wrists though his words come out soft. Still holding her, he uses his free hand to reach for the hem of her dress.

“We both know that you’re not going to squeal,” he continues. Rey writhes uselessly as his fingers latch onto her dress, start sliding it up. “We both know that you would if you _wanted_ me to stop.”

“Stop-” Rey echoes faintly. She won’t raise her voice, she will _not_ call attention…

Kylo shoves her dress up to her waist, one swift crease. Exposed, Rey’s thighs shine from the netting of her black stockings. Kylo hums appreciatively, roughly stroking his fingertips against the smooth fabric. He jams his shoulder against Rey’s, using the new angle to reach for his belt.

“You won’t get away with this,” Rey whispers desperately as his belt buckle clinks. “My grandfather-”

“Doesn’t care about you,” Kylo growls. “We both know that.”

“I’ll get you fired-”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I will _end_ you,” she hisses as harshly as she can.

“You can try,” Kylo says, and he looks into her eyes. There’s all of his usual coldness and hate, but a wildness runs beneath it, an irrational lust. Rey shivers, seeing warped desire that matches her own.

“I love it when you try,” he breathes out.

And then he’s pulled his cock free. He slips it against her thigh.

“No!” Rey cries softly, her eyes opening wide.

“Oh I won’t give you this,” he snarls softly. “Not today.” He reaches between them, angles his cock to nudge against her crotch. Rey shudders at the warmth of it, ghostly and hot through the hatching of the stockings. She tries to twist free but he just presses closer.

“You’re just some skin to cum onto, aren’t you Rey?” he whispers. “Do you remember?” When Rey just keeps struggling, he squeezes her cut hand so tightly she stills. “ _Remember?”_

“I remember,” Rey chokes out.

“Good.” He relaxes his grip, only somewhat. “Now open your legs, or I’ll rip your dress.”

“You wouldn’t-”

He just laughs, his cock pressed against her and it’s not even lunchtime, the whole office is here. _He would do it._

“My next meeting’s in 15,” he says, coldly amused. “You can still be here when that happens, or we can be done. Up to you.”

Shakily, Rey spreads her legs.

“ _That’s_ it, Rey,” he says silkily, slotting his cock between her legs. He starts rocking his hips slowly, sliding his warm length over her stockings. “Now you just stay there and take it.”

Rey whimpers, tightly shutting her eyes. She tries to be anywhere but here in her mind, but it’s hard to ignore when he squeezes her cut hand and rubs his cock over the mound of her cunt. She whimpers again.

“You like that?” he asks gleefully. He thrusts a bit harder. “You like what I’m doing to you?”

“N-no,” Rey lies. Her cunt throbs, set aflame by the drag of the fabric.

“I think you do,” he growls, rutting against her. His breathing quickens, and Rey’s mimics his. “I think you’re going to soak through your little stockings.”

"Nnn, no,” Rey gasps out. She can feel her underwear stick wetly to her lips, rubbed inexorably by the slide of Kylo’s dick.

“You fucking whore,” he says harshly. There’s a lustful growl in his voice on that word, that filthy, dirty word. But Rey is not- she is _not-_

“ _My_ fucking whore,” he continues greedily. “Say it, Rey.”

“I won’t-”

“Do it.”

“I am not-”

“You uptight little bitch,” he breathes. “Do you want me to finish or not?”

Rey’s cunt crackles with desire, and her whole body shivers. It’s wrong, it’s all horribly wrong, but she’s here now, being used like she’s nothing more than a tissue in his hand. Anger surges within her, and Rey leans into Kylo, bites the lobe of his ear.

“I’m your whore,” she growls hatefully around his flesh.

He groans, speeding up.

“I’m your fucking whore.”

His grip on her hands tightens so hard, Rey’s vision whites out at the edges. It’s that and the drag of his cock, and the way his breath hisses when she bites him again. He turns his head and she can just see his eyes, only him in the whiteness, and they’re crazed with lust and rage as he leans down and _bites_ on her neck. Rey writhes, trying to shake him, but he’s a dog on a bone, sinking all his teeth in to mar her perfect skin. It’s discipline, and Rey feels blissfully punished in the seconds before his cock spurts onto her.

Rey cuts off a groan as the warmth of his cum dimly coats her black stockings. She can feel it through the netting as a trickling sensation, and she cants her hips towards it. Kylo makes an animal sound in his throat; it’s exhausted but triumphant, pleasure long overdue. He drags the tip of his cock over her stockings, painting his cum onto her like he’s writing his name. He doesn’t move, not an inch, until every last drop of his spend is smeared onto her former perfection.

Then Kylo releases his bite and his hold on Rey’s wrist. He takes a moment to wipe his cock dry on her flank, then steps back and reviews his work. Rey surveys him as well: he looks pleased and only somewhat disheveled, his cheeks flushed. Rey pulls down the skirt of her dress over her ruined stockings and checks her own hair automatically, ensuring that it’s still in place.

Somehow, it is.

Kylo looks down at his watch, which costs most men’s annual salary. 

“You have 5 minutes until my meeting,” he says coldly. “Probably less before that bite starts to bruise.”

Rey raises her chin. Internally, her world is tilting on its axis. Externally, she pulls down a veneer of calm.

“You’d better clean up this mess before the meeting,” she says stiffly. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of this glass incident.”

His gaze settles on her: dark-eyed and menacing. 

“Wouldn’t we,” is all he says.

A prickle of anticipation creeps up Rey’s spine. She returns his gaze for a moment, then turns on her heel and walks out of his office as though nothing had happened. Her whole body feels like it’s burning, but her mind is unaccountably sharp. As she walks, still feeling the ghost of his cock along her inner thigh, her mind slowly unfolds her next plan of action.

Firstly, she returns to her office. There, she unearths a kerchief to knot stylishly around her bruised neck, and rewraps the gauze on her hand for good measure.

Secondly, she stops by Snoke’s office. The two of them rarely interact one on one, and the old man seems surprised when she enters the room.

“I’m here about the merger,” Rey says without preamble. “I thought you should know that your contracts are late.” She lets that sink in for a moment before adding: “Kylo hasn’t told you, because Kylo doesn’t know.”

Rey arches a perfect eyebrow, a satisfied smirk on her lips.

“It's quite the oversight, wouldn’t you say?”


End file.
